Herbert struggled madly against the restraints around him, the breath being slowly crushed out of him. The slimy thing hover about him laughed demonically, clenching tighter and tighter, threatening to crush what remained of his ribcage. Feeling utterly helpless for what may have been the very first time in his life, he let out a n uncharacteristic scream. Almost as soon as the sound escaped from his vocals, he found himself hitting the floor of his flat nearly hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
Staring wildly about the room, he realized that it had merely been a dream, despite the fact that it had seemed even more real each successive time he happened upon the illusion. Over the several months of his research into Atrenis, he'd had these types of dreams more and more frequently. Disturbing, to say the least, but Herbert West the man could be equally as terrible as any mythological creature in all his tenacity. It was nothing that he could not become accustomed to. A few dreams would not be enough to distract him from his goal.
Rubbing his eyes wearily, he reached out into the darkness of the room for his glasses. Rising slowly, West made his way to the lower rooms of his old apartments, to check on the progress, or rather, it's digression. West had learned from his past failures – there were no neighbors this time around, and no inquisitive minds anywhere near to see the strange lights or to hear the odd sounds creeping from beneath the grounds.
West had sealed of part of the basement in the manner of a cell, and had made the wise decision of using several heavy duty logging chains, coupled with nigh indestructible locks, to ensure that it stayed there. The only way it would escape would be through death, this time due to the collapse of the structure around it, as it was chained to the very foundations. Better to completely lose the building than to be once m ore questioned by the authority's feeble minds. Sputtering madly, the remains of the simple boy who had wandered onto his lands strained against its restraints, wanting nothing more or less than to rend West from skull to heel. It struggled to pull him through the bars and perpetuate that wish.
"Yet another miserable failure" West muttered coldly, glaring with malice at this thing he had made, yet refused to claim. The creature seemed to ponder its creator for a moment, temporarily ending it's sputtering in favor of its best imitation of West's stare. An utter failure. There was no doubt about one thing – his serum bestowed great, inhuman strength to the recently deceased. No matter. It would not be long until he discovered what form of chemical reaction or simple ingredient would produce the results he desperately sought.
Stretching calmly, he reached to his left for a rather long iron bar, and proceeded to shove it forcefully towards the creature, in between the bars of the make-shift cell. Thus subdued, the creature retreated to a corner, and West returned the bar to its proper place.
Returning to the thoughts of his dreams, they had really reached the point where he would simply have to that he was not unbreakable, despite his earlier thoughts on the matter. Rats in the walls or scorpions in his mind, or cranium, rather, being the least of his worries in such dreams. Now his mind changed courses to run towards the idea of Atrenis. Granted, he had no idea how things would turn out after he did bring Atrenis to life – foresight was not one of his strong points. However, in his naivety, he felt that he could control her without many problems.
Another thing that he had never worried on was socializing. People had never fit into his visions of grandeur, and now he realized that he longed for some sort of companionship, if for nothing more than to aid him in his research. His last attempt at having an assistant had proved to be less than satisfactory. Surely someone must exist in the universe who would aid him in his research. In the time until then, he would keep himself occupied with long, withdrawn soliloquies for thoughts as he made his way ever closer to his goal.
His research had lately brought him absolutely nowhere since his discovery of the tome, and his revelation had been quite disheartening. With nothing to continue working with, and only this miserable failure apparent to show some form of success. For the first time in his life, Herbert West was feeling utterly dejected, instead of filled with his usual rage at his circumstances. Raking his fingers through his blond hair, he stated, "We are both miserable failures, are we not?"